


(Just Like) Starting Over

by Historical_Muse



Series: Robin Hood (BBC 2006) [1]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Sexual talk & descriptions, Younger man/older woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Historical_Muse/pseuds/Historical_Muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can’t always get what you want; but if you try, sometimes you get what you need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Just Like) Starting Over

**Author's Note:**

> Set prior to S1, I hope this doesn’t contradict canon too much! The dialogue is in keeping with the anachronisms (linguistic and otherwise) of the series itself.

God, she was beautiful.  All soft and willing, with a mouth tasting of honey, and firm, plump breasts like ripe apples.  Allan closed his eyes and sighed in contentment as his tongue parted her lips and his thumb and forefinger teased one of her nipples into hardness.  His cock was hard and pressing impatiently against his breeches:  all he had to do now was keep her here behind the stables, lift up her skirt, and –

The hands that descended on the scruff of Allan’s neck and the seat of his breeches were very large and the voice that bellowed in his ear as he was hauled bodily away from his lovely companion and deposited in a pile of horse-shit was very loud and _very_ male.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re up to with my daughter, you little shit?  You lay so much as a glance on my girl again and I swear I’ll have your nuts roasting over a fire before you can draw breath!”

Stars shimmered before Allan’s eyes as the big man standing over him kicked him in the side and then grabbed his daughter’s arm.  Allan could hear her whining in indignation as her father lead her off into the distance, berating her about trusting toe rags like that scruffy little shit who was trying to get his hand up her skirt.  The abuse aside – well, the man had been right in his assessment of what he’d been trying to do – Allan now felt an element of relief.  Listening to that awful, nasal voice with its petulant bleat had put him right off his little _amorata_ :  fucking her would’ve been all right, but having to listen to her afterwards would’ve been too high a price to pay.

As chickens clucked, squawked, and flapped around him, Allan shook himself out of his shocked daze and tried to ignore the discomfort of the combination of flies, horse manure, and a painful hard-on as he struggled to his feet.  His ears were ringing and he felt slightly disorientated, but he knew he had to carry on his way and quickly in case the girl’s father decided to come back for another go at him.  And just what _was_ her name now, anyway?  Grisel?  Griselda?  Alice?  He wasn’t even sure that he’d asked for her name before he started groping her – but as she’d only giggled and not put up much of a fight, he’d assumed it wasn’t important.

Shrugging, and dusting the worst of the dung off his clothes, he stumbled towards the horse-trough to clean himself up and tried to ignore the sniggers and comments from the villagers who’d gathered around to watch his humiliation and were now dispersing.  He began washing his face and hands in the horse trough, not caring that the horses it served wouldn’t appreciate drinking from it now.  He’d only been here a few days and already he hated Wickham with the same passion with which he hated what’s-her-name’s father at this moment – it was such a miserable little place, filled with miserable little people with their miserable little lives and their miserable little minds...

“You’re a braver man than most in Wickham, I'll give you that.  I can’t see anyone else attempting to mount Thorkell’s daughter without making sure he was at least two shires away first.”

Allan looked up to see a woman, a head or two shorter than himself and much older, throwing meal to the chickens that pecked around a bare patch of earth.  “Thanks for that kind word,” he snorted sarcastically, as he went back to sluicing water over his dusty arms.  “I shall treasure it always.”

 _< Bloody woman,>_ he thought.  _< Old enough to know better, that one.  Still, I showed her who’s the best at witty repartee.  I bet that’s shut her up.>_

“Oh no, don’t get me wrong.  I _admire_ you.  You were very brave.  _Stupid_ , but very brave.”

The amused tone of her voice needled him.  “You think so...” he scoffed, looking up to take in the woman’s large blue eyes, wry smile, and the wild, dark copper hair that fell around her shoulders in thick curls.  She was voluptuous where the girl he’d been hoping to ride had been slender, and he couldn’t help being attracted by the humour and character in her face.  She wasn’t bad looking for an older woman.

She threw more meal for the chickens, and then dropped the empty bowl to the floor, dusting off her hands.  “Of course, had you lived here longer you’d’ve known that Thorkell was the horse-master for Simon of Rothley, who keeps his stable here.  You couldn’t’ve chosen a _worse_ place to take his daughter for a ride.”

Allan shook his head in disbelief.  He really _had_ been stupid.  The girl hadn’t been _that_ worth it.

The woman grinned at him again.  “It takes a brave man to attempt to shag Thorkell’s daughter, and many a man across the Shire will be toasting you tonight.”  She folded her arms across her plump breasts and eyed him – so Allan assumed – approvingly.  “I’ve got to hand it to you.  I really do admire your balls.”  She nodded towards his groin.  “And your _cock’s_ pretty impressive, too...”

“I – _what_?”  Allan looked down, and realised that his breeches were gaping wide open, displaying his now-softening cock and accompanying balls to – in his opinion, anyway – their best advantage.  “ _Fuck_!” he exclaimed, tucking everything away safely and tying the laces on his breeches with a determination to keep his tackle in place.

“You’d better be on your way as soon as you can,” the woman cautioned him kindly.  “You’re lodging with Edward and Alison still, aren’t you?  Better get off home to them before Thorkell gets back from telling Melusine a few home truths about the evils of men who aren’t her father!”

_< Melusine? What kind of a name was Melusine, for fuck’s sake?>_

“Thanks,” Allan grunted, grudgingly grateful.

“Any time, soldier,” the woman grinned, before turning back towards the hut behind her.

“Wait,” Allan said, staying her with his hand.  “What’s _your_ name?”

She held his gaze, looking bemused.  “Why?  What’s it to you?”

He fluttered his eyelashes, never slow to flirt with anyone seeming half-willing.  “I never forget a kindness.”

The woman roared with laughter.  It wasn’t an unpleasant sound.  “Get away with you.  Tell Edward that he’s got to keep a better eye on his guests if he doesn’t want them gelded; it’s only polite, after all.  And tell Alison that Edith says she’s got to feed you up a bit.  You’re _far_ too skinny for my liking.”

Allan grinned as the woman started walking back to the hut.  “So your name’s Edith, then?”

Edith raised her eyebrows.  “Brains as _well_ as beauty,” she remarked drily.  “What a catch!  I must tell Thorkell that he was wrong about you – you’d make a _perfect_ match for his darling daughter.”

“Would he listen to you?”

“I doubt it.  I’m his wife.”

 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

After helping Edward re-thatch his hut roof, Allan sought Edith out the following afternoon.  He found her sweeping dust out of her hut door with a besom, her hair braided into an untidy plait.

“Is your old man around?”

Edith looked up and then held his gaze in the way he already found distinctly unsettling.  “Come back to see if you can get the upper hand with him this time?”  She went back to her sweeping.  “He’s gone to Nottingham with Melusine.  Gone to take her to stay with his mother until you’ve moved on.  He’s scared you’re going to try covering his daughter again, randy young stallion that you are.”

“Yeah, well.”  Allan tugged at his sleeves uneasily.  “It was a mistake anyone could’ve made who didn’t live here.”  His conscience suddenly pricked him.  “I’m – sorry.  For – for what I tried to do to your daughter.”

Edith raised her head and regarded him with cool eyes.  “My daughter?”

Allan shuffled, looking uncomfortable.  “Look, I’m not very good at apologies, all right?  Melusine.  Your daughter.  I tried to shag her, remember?”

“God’s stones!  Do I look _that_ old?”  The woman’s hands shifted on the shaft of her broom.  “She’s not _my_ daughter.  I’m his second wife.  First one died.  Of boredom, probably.  That, or frustration.”

“So how come you –”

“How come _I_ married him?” Edith sighed.  “I was married to his brother, who died in a riding accident.  Give him his due, Thorkell took pity on me and gave me a home; no-one else would have me.  Damaged goods, they said.  That and – but never mind.  Oh yes, he took me in; but it was at a price.  Still, at least he’s not a bad man and he doesn’t beat me, so I can’t complain.”

Allan studied her thoughtfully.  Something about her appealed to him in a way he’d never expected the previous day.  Yes, she was much older than he was, but he actually _liked_ that.  He liked the fact that she was willing to give as good as she got with him, and it was nice to talk to someone older than the girls he normally tried to charm.  Edith didn’t simper or giggle at him and he liked that; he liked the fact that she _was_ a woman, and not a silly little girl.  He liked the way she seemed amused by him as much as anything; he hadn’t been comfortable with it at first, but he’d warmed to the way she treated him – and now that he’d had time to mull it all over...

“...So no, my old man’s not around.”

“What?”  Allan shook his head, gathering his thoughts.  “Oh, right.  Well, I’ll be off, then.”

“Did you want him for anything in particular?” Edith asked wryly.  “I hadn’t reckoned on you being the sort that was a glutton for punishment.”

Allan shrugged and fixed his eyes on a dark red curl that had escaped from its braid.  “I thought I might have a chat with _you_ , actually.”

“What about?  I’m probably old enough to be your mother.  I doubt if we have much in common.”

Allan took a deep breath and plunged in.  “We’re both _lonely_.”

 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

 She closed the door behind him.  “Have you eaten?”

 “Alison fed me before I came to see you, but I wouldn’t say no to more.  I love my food, me.”

 Edith tutted.  “You can’t tell from looking at you.  You must have hollow legs.”

 She gave him small beer, oatcakes, and fruit, and then gestured for him to sit down on one of the rough but serviceable chairs, pouring a beaker of small beer for herself.

Allan plonked himself down and then looked around the hut.  “So how come, if your old man’s a horse-master, you only live in a place like this?  I thought that sort of work paid well.”

“You thought wrong.  Thorkell sends a lot home to his parents.  Plus he doesn’t want the other villagers to think he’s trying to be a peg or two above them.  Wants them to know he’s just the same as they are.”

“Good of ‘im,” Allan nodded.  “Likes keepin’ it real, does ‘e?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Edith snorted.

“ _Tell_ me, then.”  Allan bit into a small, slightly sour apple.  “I’ve nothing else planned for the rest of the day.  Depends on when you’re expecting your old man back, mind.”

Edith gave him a wry grin.  “No, don’t want to tempt fate, do we!  He’ll be staying in Nottingham until late tomorrow morning, so you’ll be quite safe.  Says he never gets enough time to see his mother.  It’s as well Simon of Rothley and his horses are away on crusade at the moment.”

“Didn’t he want to take your husband with him?”

“Would _you_?” Edith countered with wide, amused eyes.  “No, Simon thinks a lot of my husband, but not _that_ much.  He’s sharing the services of the horse master belonging to another knight he’s travelling with.  Tells Thorkell it’s because he doesn’t want the risk of losing him in battle and who’s going to look after the stable buildings while he’s away?”

“And what does Thorkell think of that?”

“He doesn’t care.  Doesn’t fancy the idea of getting killed for King Richard – and besides, who’ll be there to keep an eye on Melusine?”

“ _You_?”

Edith laughed sourly.  “Oh no, not me.  I’m not _good_ enough to look after his precious little princess.”

Allan squashed crumbs with his finger.  “Is that why he’s not worried about leaving his wife here all on her own?”

Edith looked up at him sharply.  “Because I’m not good enough?  Oh yes, he’s not worried about what happens to me.  He only needs me here to cook and clean for him, and he could get _anyone_ to do that.”

Allan sucked in his lips thoughtfully.  “But you _are_ his missus.  Roof over your head an’ all that.  You want for nothing.”

She stared down into her beaker of ale.  “For nothing except to be loved and I didn’t expect Thorkell to love me, but it would help.  And you,” she went on, giving him a world-weary smile, “I suppose, have a wife in every town and village the length of the Trent.”

Allan snorted loudly and laughed as he poured more small beer from the jug on the table and drank it down greedily.  “I wish.”

“Liar,” Edith grinned as she handed him more oatcakes.

“No, straight up!” Allan insisted through a mouth full of oatcake.  “I couldn’t be doing with all _that_.  Too much like hard work!”  He took another bite of food.  “But that’s what I don’t understand about your old man.  Just leaving your here on your own to fend for yourself.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” Edith laughed, ruffling Allan’s hair affectionately.  “But don’t you worry about me.  I’m as tough as hide, me.  I can cope.”

“Is that what you meant when you said people thought you were ‘damaged goods’?”

“Don’t be stupid.  You _know_ what they meant, Allan A Dale.  I was someone else’s woman and –”

“– You had a bit of a reputation,” Allan finished softly, making Edith gasp.

“If... you want to put it like that,” she nodded slowly.  “’Free with my favours’, some of them said.  And it’s true, I was – but I was young, and I was foolish, and I was lusty, and I enjoyed it.  I was _choosy_ , mind; I didn’t go with just _anyone_.  I had to fancy them, or they’d never get the chance.  And I never had anyone else’s man, so I never made enemies.  And of course, all that changed when I married Tostig.”  She smiled, eyes distant, as though remembering.  “I never wanted anyone else after that.”

“And...Thorkell?”

Smiling, Edith shook her head at him.  “Not interested in the slightest,” she chuckled, brightening.  “I often suspect that it’s not just his mother he visits in Nottingham.  _I_ reckon he’s got some doxy squirreled away in the city – probably down Gropecunte Lane, if you ask me.”

“Might explain where his money goes if ‘e’s payin’ for it,” Allan nodded sagely.  “I tell you this, though.  ‘F’you were _my_ wife, I wouldn’t leave you alone like ‘e’s done.”

Edith’s lips quirked into an amused smile.  “Would you not, noble Abelard?”

Allan frowned, looking blank.  “’Oo?”

Edith shook her head.  “Never mind.  Not a good choice of noble lover anyway, I dare say.”  She studied his face thoughtfully.  Would you _really_ not leave me?  Alison and Edward tell me you have a gift for not telling the truth – and I’ve seen for myself that you’re a rogue, so –”

“Oi, I _resent_ that!” Allan protested, somewhat hurt.  “All right, so I embroider the truth a little, and I’m no angel – but then I’m no rogue, neither!”

“Not much you’re not,” Edith laughed, reaching across to ruffle his hair again as she got up to clear away the empty wooden platters.  “At my age I’ve met enough charming men with smooth, lying tongues not to be able to recognise a rogue when I see one.”

Allan shook his head.  “Ah, now, no, you’re wrong about me, love.  I may be a rogue, but I’m a loveable one!”

“Modest, too – _and_ honest enough to admit the truth.”

Allan reached across and took Edith’s hand.  “Because I like you,” he admitted quietly.

“Because I remind you of your mother, no doubt,” Edith snorted, her face tight and angry.

“ _God_ no!” exclaimed Allan in horror.  “You’re _nothing_ like my old mum!”  He suddenly found himself blushing.  “An’ besides – I’ve never wanted to shag my mum...” 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Allan expected Edith to pull her hand away from his; instead, she merely stroked his face and smiled, going calmly into his embrace as he reached out and took her into his arms, pulling her down astride his lap.  When he wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the feel of her warmth and solidity, he realised that he was shaking – afraid that she might yet simply pull away and make fun of him.

To his relief, Edith merely wound her arms gently around his shoulders and kissed him, her lips firm and dry on his.  He moaned low in his throat with pleasure as she shifted her weight in his lap, pressing her body gently against his as she buried the fingers of one hand in his hair and teased open his mouth with her tongue.  He thought he’d die of contentment there and then, as he hugged her tighter and gave himself up to the pleasure of her kisses until at last she pulled away and sat looking at him, a crooked smile on her face.

“Now you can say you’ve kissed an old woman, Allan a Dale,” she said bitterly.  “Is that why you’re trembling?  With horror and disgust?  Wouldn’t you prefer to have some slip of a girl in your arms?”

“You’re not old,” Allan replied, with heart-felt fervour.  “And a slip of a girl wouldn’t know how to kiss me like _that_.  And if I’m trembling...”  His arms tightened around her until they ached.  “It’s because I _want_ you.  That’s not disgust, Edith.  That’s _lust_ , that is.  I think you’re beautiful.  And I’m not being funny, but if you don’t want me, then...please: just tell me now and I’ll leave.”  He stared up at her, hoping that if she just looked into his eyes, she’d know he was – for perhaps only the second time in his life when it came to women – being totally honest.

“Well of _course_ I want you,” Edith replied, licking her finger and wiping a smudge of dirt off Allan’s left temple.  She spotted a smear of mud on the right side of his jaw and rubbed that away too, tutting.  “You mucky little pup!  Look at the state of you – mud on your face, and – oh, God’s _Wounds_ , crumbs in your beard.” 

Allan put his hand to his face indignantly.  “Crumbs?  _Where_?”

“Here.”  Edith brushed the oatcake crumbs away, a little roughly, but with a smile.  “There, that’s better.”  She combed his hair out of his eyes with her fingers.  “And so’s that – I can see your eyes, now.  And you really do have the most beautiful eyes, Allan.  I swear that when I look in your eyes I could almost believe that you _do_ want me.”

Allan sighed, looking up at her from beneath his eyelashes with a resigned grin.  “Edith, Edith, Edith...  What happened to the feisty bit of stuff I was chatting up earlier?  The smartarse I thought I’d want to get the better of?  Not being funny or nothing, but I fancied you because you’ve got a bit of a smart tongue on you, an’ I like that.  You remind me of me, only –”  He gestured awkwardly at her body.  “– With nice squashy bits.”  He hugged her, suddenly aware that she was shaking.  “Come on, Edith.  I know what Alison and Edward say about me, an’ I know what you think of me, an’ I ain’t saying as I’m a saint, but – well, like I said, I think you’re beautiful, and – well, we _are_ both lonely and in need of a bit of – Edith, what’s the matter?”  Suddenly the cock-sure young man was a petulant – if hurt – little boy.  “What are you laughing at?”

“Oh _Allan_!”  She took his face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead.  “Here I was, thinking you a silver-tongued devil, and you start talking about ‘squashy bits’?”

“You’ve got very _nice_ squashy bits, so far as I can tell,” Allan replied indignantly.  “Come on, Edith.  You’re lovely.  And you’re lonely.  And so am I.  And I’m not Thorkell.  _I_ wouldn’t neglect you like he does.  When was the last time you shared yourself with anyone else, eh?  Eh?  Can’t remember?  Well, then.  Please, Edith.  Show a lonely traveller a bit of hospitality.  Teach this eager young scholar a few lessons in the ways of love –”  The little boy-lost look returned once more.  “Edith, will you _please_ stop laughing!”

Edith kissed him gently on the mouth.  “I take it all back,” she said softly.  “A man who can say what you just did and keep such a straight face is worth my time.  You’re a naughty boy, Allan a Dale, but not, I think, _always_ a liar and a rogue.  And that,” she added, kissing him again, “I find truly irresistible.”

“Edith,” Allan whispered, “don’t you think it’s about _time_ you had a roll in the hay with someone who’ll _appreciate_ you?”

Edith unwound Allan’s arms from around her waist and rose gracefully from his lap, taking her hands in his as she led him towards a curtained-off part of the hut.  “Yes,” she replied fiercely.  “I _do_.”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

When Allan woke early the next morning, his arms wound protectively around Edith’s sleeping body, he knew that it was going to take at least three weeks to get the contented smile off his face.  His head was full of images of the afternoon and the night before and his body and muscles ached deliciously from his exertions.

Pulling Edith closer still, he wound a curling strand of red hair around his fingers and brushed his lips across her forehead.  He remembered how her hair had tumbled around her shoulders and back and how it had felt against his skin as she’d straddled and ridden him, his fingers digging into her arse as he’d stared up at her in wonder.  Remembered how it had felt to wrap it around his fists like reins as he’d ridden her – and how soft it had felt as he’d buried his fingers in it while she sucked his cock and he’d cried out in pleasure so loudly that even Thorkell might have heard him.

 _Thorkell_...  Allan shook his head in disbelief.  What the hell was the _matter_ with the man?  Edith was wonderful, and – ah, but maybe that was it.  Perhaps Thorkell was scared of dying of pleasure.

Allan had never enjoyed bedding a woman as much as he’d enjoyed bedding Edith; he’d never enjoyed having a woman control things before, either – but with Edith it was different and he’d been content to let her lead him like an eager pupil.  She knew what she was doing, it was clear – but she never made him feel as though he was gauche and knew nothing.  And Allan had _loved_ it, bumped elbows, noses, misplaced hands, and all.  He’d never laughed so much while fucking, either; Edith had reminded him of just how much fun making love could be.

He sighed, realising that he wanted this to go on and on, even though he knew it couldn’t.  But how the hell was he ever going to be able to leave her _now_?

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

 Allan snuggled closer to Edith.  “Your husband’s an idiot.”

 “I know.  But he’ll be back before nightfall, so you’ll have to be off soon.”

 Allan sighed.  “Don’t remind me!”

 Edith stroked his chest, her fingers teasing gently at his nipples.  “And I don’t want to think about it either.  I’ll miss you, you charmer.”

 Allan wound his arms around her.  “Come with me.”

 She stared at him in disbelief.  “Don’t be daft.  I _can’t_ come with you!  Thorkell would kill me!”

 “Edith, I doubt if he’d even notice you’d gone.  You said yourself he could soon get someone else in to do his cooking and cleaning.  Come with me.”

 Edith frowned and nestled against Allan’s chest.  “But _where_ will you go next?”

 Allan shrugged, kissing her.  “Dunno.  But I tell you what, come with me and we’ll go wherever you want.”

 “I can’t!”

 “Edith, I’m not being funny, but I don’t say this to _every_ woman I shag, you know.  Do you _really_ want to stay here and be miserable, when you can go on the run with me –”

 Edith laughed bitterly.  “ – And be even _more_ miserable?”

“No, we’d have fun!  We’d have adventures!”  Allan grinned at her, eyes shining with plans and excitement.  He thought for a moment.  “Well – it wouldn’t _always_ be fun, and all right, so some of the adventures might be a bit dodgy, but come _on_ , Edith:  it’s _got_ to be better than what you’ve got now!”

“Oh, _Allan_!”

“’Oh Allan’ _what_?”

“I’m not a squirrel, Allan.  I can’t live in the forest and forage for my food.”

“You can always nibble on _my_ nuts,” Allan sniggered happily.

“I can’t do that forever,” Edith retorted, grinning as she gave him a shove.  “Please, Allan,” she added softly.  “Don’t tempt me with something I can’t have.”

“I ain’t givin’ up yet, love.  Got any relatives?”

She looked at him, wondering what he was planning now.  “My mother still lives in Linby.  I know _she’d_ like to see me.  She never liked Thorkell.  I could go and stay with her for a while.”

“Well, then!”

“’Well’ what?”

“We’ll go and have adventures together – and then, when you’re tired of me, I’ll take you to your mother’s in Linby and carry on my way!”  He pulled her in tight against his body and kissed her, feeling his cock begin to harden simply at the warmth and feel of his lover’s body.  “Say you will, Edith.”

“You’re very persistent,” Edith laughed softly, returning his kisses.  “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you!”

“I am.”

“Or is it your prick talking and you’re just saying it so that you can have me again before you leave?  Have you _really_ thought this through?”

Allan raised a penitent hand.  “I cannot tell a lie.  ‘Yes’ and ‘yes’ are the answers to those questions.  And I’m after you for your mind as well as your body, Edith – we’ve both got sharp wits and together we’d make a great team!  Go on – say you’ll come with me.”

“Oh God,” Edith sighed, burying her face in Allan’s shoulder.  “If it’s a choice between living like a squirrel and another year of being Thorkell’s drudge...  Oh all right – yes, I will,” she finished defiantly.

“Awww, _yes_!” Allan exclaimed, hugging her until she made him stop because she couldn’t breathe.  “I swear, Edith – you won’t regret it!”

“And what of the future?” she asked, whispering against his lips as he leant in to kiss her again.

“I’m not being funny,” Allan whispered back as his hands began to caress Edith once more, “but I think the future will have to take care of _itself_ for a while until you and I have dealt with something a bit more pressing!”

 

  
_"Let's take a chance and fly away somewhere alone.”_ ~ John Lennon

 

~~**The End**~~


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